


Alibis

by highwhorelock



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heartbreak, Modern Westeros, Nice Joff AU, Older Jojen, Really AU, Self-Hatred, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwhorelock/pseuds/highwhorelock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joffrey Baratheon died. Sansa was never the same and Jojen wondered how broken Joffrey left her this time, only to figure out how much he was messed up as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alibis

Fʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴄʀᴀᴘᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs  
Tᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ᴀʙᴜsᴇs  
I·ʟʟ ᴋɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ

 

What was it like losing someone? Jojen could never quite understand. He never had lost anyone, not to death at least. The events that happened these past few days made him reflect on his life. Has anyone he met died but didn’t know about it? Was losing in touch with a person you’ve been close with for so long as painful and numb as death? He still doesn’t know.

 

Today was the fourteenth day Joffrey Baratheon was gone. He skipped work for a few hours, assigning his TA to hand out activity papers to answer for the mean time. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was a calming blue, the sun hiding behind some clouds which meant it wasn’t too hot. The wind did its part too, carding through his hair that it almost lulled him. It was peaceful too but of course, he was in a cemetery, it was supposed to be peaceful.

 

Jojen sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning on the side of Joffrey’s tombstone, new and still in shape compared to the others around with the faded names and most probably faded memories as well. There were fresh flowers there which meant either Cersei, Myrcella, or Sansa had been here recently. His bet was on Sansa. 

 

A bottle of expensive ass scotch sat in his hand, open and a quarter gone. “I don’t know what happened, Joff.” He said, closing his eyes. “I don’t really know what to believe with the news and the papers going shit crazy over this. All I know is that you’re gone, you broke your promise to me, and my girlfriend still loves you.”

 

Tʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ I ʜᴏᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ  
Aɴᴅ I·ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ  
I ᴅᴏɴ·ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ɪᴛ  
I ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ

 

The first few days were tough. It was a constant struggle between denial and breakdowns. He had to watch over her constantly, make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. It wasn’t a burden to him at all. He understood. She was grieving and he allowed that because it was either that or she’ll bottle everything up and do something terribly drastic that he couldn’t stop. At least he could control this. Sansa was there for his pathetic breakdowns over the smallest things and this was big. He had to be there for her.

 

It was like that part of their relationship where he would pick her pieces up and try to assemble her, giving some of him in other to fill in the blanks. Only this was worse. The pieces were jagged than before, some parts now completely shattered and unable to put back together so he had to give bigger, leaving him to be the hollow one. And he didn’t mind. Of course not. This was for Sansa. The first girl he loved, still loves, and will love.

 

It was on his funeral that she really cracked, said things out loud that Jojen know were true but didn’t want to hear it anyway. It was a slap in the face. It was then he realized just how big of a piece did Joffrey take from her. And he comforted her anyway, hugged her tight, told her the words she needed to hear and delivering it in a manner so calm and collected that it made his stomach twist. He was good at this. He had practice.

 

Aɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ﹐ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴄᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟɪʙɪs  
Aɴᴅ ᴍᴇ﹐ I·ᴍ ʜᴀʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ I ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ

 

“You promised me that you would make it up to her. Be the friend she deserved from you. Getting your head blown out was not part of the plan.” Anger bubbled up now in which he masked with a dry chuckle. “You broke her. /Again/. Man, you should have seen her. It was worse than a heartbreak. You know, I keep wondering if you did want to die in the first place.” His grip tightened on the bottle. “I would’ve gladly helped you out there.”

 

Poor boy. He doesn’t know the whole story. Right now he doesn’t care about it either. He was angry, tired, a broken mess. Blaming the dead was hitting a new low but he had to for his own good. He had to or else he couldn’t keep up with the saintly image his girlfriend had pictured him. He wished he was that man she perceived. She deserved that guy.

 

“You know that damn feeling, Joff, when you’re just there because you’re needed? Not because you were ever desired but just because you had to be.” He took a swig of the scotch and let the burn run down his throat. “It would’ve been a lot easier if you were here. I mean, I could fill in the blanks you left as a lover but I could never replace a friend. Now that you’re gone, I’m also quiet sure that you those blanks you left as a lover are bigger than I thought.”

 

“But damn, that’s not your problem anymore, right? You had the girl, Joff. You had her, you broke her, and then I had her. At least I thought I did. I now think she never left your arms in the first place.” Jojen stood up and stared down blankly at the name written on the stone. “You know, I’d like to think that you’re in a better place with Brella. Then maybe if you look down and see me living my hellish life, that would bring you hell too. Just maybe. It has always been hell for me, Joffrey. Just know that you’re down in that list of things that make it miserable."

 

“You just had to win. Joffrey fucking Baratheon always has to win.” Jojen nodded and poured the rest of the alcohol on the ground. One last drink, mate. “Congrats.”

 

Jojen Reed, what a weird guy. Keeps to himself most of the time. Is more comfortable around inanimate objects, the morgue, the cemetery. What a creep. Maybe because he is himself around the dead. Because around the dead, he no longer needs to keep up the façade he wears to please the living. Because they can’t judge him. They won’t judge him. And that’s the only assurance he had been holding on for a very long time.

 

Dᴏɴ·ᴛ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ﹐ ᴅᴏɴ·ᴛ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ  
Aɴᴅ I ғᴇᴇʟ sᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʟᴇss  
Aɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪs ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴄᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟɪʙɪs

Aɴᴅ ᴍᴇ﹐ I·ᴍ ʜᴀʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ I ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ.


End file.
